


Prompt 1: "Are You Wearing My Shirt?"

by allthatjaz



Category: ALL OUT!! - Amase Shiori (Anime & Manga)
Genre: M/M, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-20
Updated: 2017-05-20
Packaged: 2018-11-02 22:28:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10954008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allthatjaz/pseuds/allthatjaz
Summary: Sometimes all you need after a rough day is an unexpected chance, and a arse of a best friend.





	Prompt 1: "Are You Wearing My Shirt?"

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Abirdwholikesanime](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Abirdwholikesanime/gifts).



> I wrote this for a prompt ask the lovely [ Abirdwholikesanime](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Abirdwholikesanime) was kind enough to send me on tumblr, and which I took a devastatingly long time to answer. 
> 
> Many thanks to my sister, [Upsetapplecart](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Upsetapplecart), for reading through this mess when it wasn't suitable for the human eye. Any remaining spelling/grammar mistakes, out of characterness, terrible puns, ect. are mine and mine alone.

When Ise entered the clubroom, he didn’t think much about the mass of red jerseys piled on the table, or the group of first years going through it.

He walked over to his usual spot, pulling his phone out to check as he dropped to the floor. There was a message from his brother. He opened it and sighed at the reminder to buy cigarettes on the way home.

“I hope you’re not running errands for that jerk still.”

He locked his phone, not bothering to look up, “he’s my brother, Ebucchi, I kind of have to.”

“Ah, no! Newsflash, Ise, he’s an arsehole! You don’t have to do what arseholes tell you. Screw ‘em.”

He groaned, starting to dig around in the depths of his bag, “Did you have to add that last bit?”

Ebumi just sniggered, dumping his own bags down beside Ise’s.

Ise huffed a tired laugh, “And how come I do stuff for you then?”

Ebumi scrunched up his nose, “You’re a real arse, you know.”

He pushed himself up off the ground, throwing his shirt at Ebumi to hold, and started to shrug off his school uniform.

“Why are you in such a good mood anyway? New mascara brand come out?”

Ebumi shook the shirt off his head, letting it fall onto his shoulder, “Fuck you, no. I’m just pumped. Practice is going to be great!”

He paused with his shirt over his head, trying to peer through the yellow fabric at Ebumi, “What’s happened?”

Ebumi scoffed, hand halting in fixing the non-existent damage to his hair, “What? Nothing.”

He yanked his shirt fully off and studied Ebumi’s pathetic attempt at a poker face, “you’ve never once in your life said you were excited for practice before.”

“Piss off, that’s not true!”

“Wow, it’s embarrassing watching you try to lie.” He said, dropping his shirt onto his bag.

Ebumi gave him an aggressive pout, “I can lie!”

Taking the new shirt from Ebumi’s shoulder, he rolled his eyes, “Uh, yeah, maybe. To like, yourself.”

“Huh?! No! I – “

“Who is it that can never get rental porn?”

“That doesn’t prove anything, it’s all down to disguises and shit.”

Ise begun sliding his practice shirt over his head, “Yeah, so, _lying_.”

He popped his head out of the neck opening, pulling the hem down, and smirked at Ebumi’s sulking expression.

Then his brain caught up with his eyes.

“Wait…” He frowned and glanced around the clubroom, “why are you all in game jerseys?”

A triumphant grin took over Ebumi’s pout, “Took you long enough, moron.”

He squinted at the fit of the jersey Ebumi was wearing.

“And why is yours…?”, He shuffled around behind Ebumi to confirm it, “Why do you have the Fly-half number on?”

Ebumi’s grin grew to shit eating size. “I told you I was pumped for practice!”

“What?”

“Suwa is a dickhead and wouldn’t give me the other wing so I went for the next best thing.”

“Ebumi, that doesn’t explain anything!”

“Matsu-san told me to pass the message on, but…,” Ebumi smirked, resting his hand on his hip, “I didn’t want to ruin it.”

“Ruin what? Ebucchi, what the hell are you on about?”

Ebumi chucked an arm over Ise’s shoulders and spun them both around to face the front of the room. With amazing timing, the door slid open and Mutsumi entered with Sekizan, both already in red jerseys of their own.

“Wait for it.”

“Wait for what? What are -?”

Mutsumi turned around to talk to the first years, and Ise’s brain malfunctioned.

Ebumi launched into what could have been a fit of laughter, or just a fit in general, Ise didn't have enough brain cells left to tell. His heart was pounding and he couldn’t hear anything through the sudden ringing in his ears. All the blood in his body had rushed to his face, and he just knew that it was already blotchy from the hideous blush growing there.

He continued to stare, feeling his skin getting warmer, “This… this can’t be happening...”

Ebumi cackled, “You should see your face!”

“I…”, he dragged his eyes away from Mutsumi’s back so he wouldn’t pass out, “I… w-why?”

“Not a clue.” Ebumi shifted off him, shrugging, “Matsu-san just said it was Mutsumi-san’s idea. Give us some perspective on what our teammates bring to our gameplay, or some shit like that.”

He blinked, trying to process this, “then why is… why is Mutsumi wearing my, uh, the – “

“Oh, Natsuki, you’re finally here!”

He froze, the voice making his knees go sloppy.

Ebumi grinned in a way that made Ise want to stomp on his foot, “Mutsumi-san, we were just talking about you.”

Mutsumi’s hand touched Ise’s arm and he gave up on ever leaving this conversation with any dignity at all.

“Uh, hi, Mut, Mut-”, he forced himself to clear his throat, feeling the blush explode back in full force, “Hi, Mutsumi-san.”

“Hi, Natsuki.” Mutsumi spared Ebumi a disappointed glance, “He didn’t tell you, did he?”

Ebumi snorted, leaning on Ise’s shoulder, “he knows now, doesn’t he?”

Ise fought the urge to push him off and grinned nervously, “Uh, he failed to mention some… stuff, but, but it’s cool.” He tried to stand straighter, “What’s – what’s up?”

Any minute now, any damn minute now, someone was going to mention the jersey swap. Then he was going to have to acknowledge things below Mutsumi’s face, and he wasn’t sure he could manage that.

“So, for today, Coach Komori and I thought it’d be good for everyone to pull out the game jerseys and – “

The hand was still burning into his arm and the soft smile Mutsumi was giving him as he talked was not helping Ise’s heart rate recover.

It was too much. As he opened his mouth, he knew Ebumi wasn’t going to stop laughing about whatever came out for days.

“Are- are you wearing my shirt?”

_Oh, for -_

Mutsumi blinked, but then grinned wide, tripping Ise’s heart into beating again.

“I mean, not my shirt! Obviously not, personally, my shirt. But the Centre shirt…? The, the jersey! The Outside Centre’s jersey?”

Mutsumi’s amused expression was nowhere near as bad for Ise’s heart as the laugh that followed it.

“Yeah, I’m wearing Outside Centre. See…” He gave a little twirl to show Ise the number on the back.

Ise saw everything but the two large digits printed there. It was tight, the jersey _was tight_. So tight that he had suddenly forgotten how you were supposed to breathe.

“What do you think? Not too shabby?”

“Think? I think….”, He trailed off, his eyes betraying him and traveling away from Mutsumi’s face, “I think...”

Ebumi thumped him in the chest, and for once he was only grateful, as his lungs started struggling through the motions of taking in oxygen again.

Blinking furiously, he tried to focus on making his tongue work properly, “It’s very, uh, very t- tight.”

Mutsumi’s laugh was so full that Ise almost forgot how much of an idiot he was making of himself. Being around Mutsumi was never good for his brain function, but apparently a simple number swap was enough to totally derail his ability to speak like a normal human being.

“But, I think it looks… you look… umm, you look good. Really, umm, _really_ good.” He gulped as his ears caught up with what was coming out of his mouth, “I mean! You look nice! No, uh, it looks! _It_ looks nice! Very nice.”

Mutsumi caught his eye, grinning wide, “thank you, Natsuki.”

He bit his lip and glanced down at the floor, drowning in the fuzziness filling his chest.

“So, everyone else is choosing which jerseys to wear but I thought I’d keep this safe for you until you got here.”

He somehow managed to accept the folded red shirt that Mutsumi passed him. He shook it out to expose the large, white number spread on the back.

The six stared at him, rather judgementally for a single digit. Huge and white and very sixish.

He lowered the shirt, dazed, “F-flanker?”

Mutsumi gave a cheeky grin, “I got you Blindside Flanker, thought we could put all that extra muscle you’ve been making to good use.”

He didn’t even fight the blush, “But, how…?”

Mutsumi’s grin turned soft, “On training camp you said you wanted to become a forward.”

Ise could only stare, his heart climbing up his throat like an extremely drunk rock climber, “You - you remembered?”

Mutsumi returned his hand to its previous spot on Ise’s arm, giving a gentle squeeze.

“Of course, Natsuki, it’s important to you.”

“Th- thank you.” He stopped his own hand moving to cover Mutsumi’s at the last second, “I don’t know what to say...”

“How about you just put the damn thing on so we can get started?”, Ebumi groaned.

Ise ignored him, holding Mutsumi’s gaze, not ready to let it go, “This means a lot.”

“I know.” Mutsumi stepped closer, placing his other hand over Ise’s, “So let’s make the most of this practice.”

He nodded determinedly, feeling extremely calm compared to a few minutes ago, “I definitely will.”

Mutsumi smiled gently, eyes squeezing shut, “Awesome.”

Ebumi moaned, “Get a damn room, you– “

_“I know, Tree Trunk! But I can’t find it, can I!?”_

Ise struggled to remember that murdering even Gion would be illegal as Mutsumi broke eye contact to glance over his shoulder.

_“Oi, Kasuga-senpai!”_

Mutsumi gave a sigh, “Again, Gion?”, he turned back to Ise, “I’m sorry, Natsuki, I’ve got to intervene for the good of the team.”

“I could do it, you seem-”

Mutsumi chuckled, “Nah, it’s fine. I’ve got this. Just get changed so this whole thing is worth it, okay?”, he stepped back, taking his hands with him, “So, I’ll see you on the field, Flanker?”

Ise offered him a shy smile, hoping the blush that was glowing on Mutsumi’s cheeks wasn’t just a part of his imagination.

“You bet!”

Ebumi gagged as Mutsumi walked back over to the first years still browsing through the leftover jerseys.

“That was the sappiest crap I’ve ever seen!”

Ise shrugged him off, just noticing how much his shoulder was aching from supporting most of Ebumi’s weight for the entire conversation.  
“Don’t you have balls to be chasing?”

Ebumi’s face began to squish like it always did when he thought he’d come up with something incredibly witty and was trying not to laugh before he delivered it in all its glory.

Ise watched him start to open his mouth and groaned, “If you make any sort of dick joke, I will kick you in the shin.”

“Your loss, Ise...” Ebumi stepped backwards, smile still far too smug, “it was a pretty good…”

“No. Ebucchi, don’t you –!”

“ _Cum_ back.”

He kicked out, not putting much effort into the movement, “you’re such an arsehole!”

Ebumi spun away, cackling madly, and jogged off towards the door, “Just get your damn number on! They can’t start the scrum without you, lame-arse.”

“Whatever you say, Fly-half.”

Ise rolled his eyes at the finger Ebumi gave him over his shoulder and then let himself turn his attention to the rumpled jersey. He gripped the material tighter, and glanced across the room to where Mutsumi was still doing damage control.

He was finally being given a chance to prove to everyone what a good flanker he could be, there was no way he was going to waste it.

Smiling, he looked back down at the shirt in his hands, “Thank you, Mutsumi.”

**Author's Note:**

> Credit for the prompt goes to [this awesome post](http://mxcerfrey.tumblr.com/post/147560616206/send-me-a-pairing-and-a-number-and-ill-write-a).
> 
> And you can find this word vomit originally [posted here](http://jazthespazz.tumblr.com/post/160704788824/so-youre-doing-a-fic-thing-how-about-ise-x).


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